The Lost Art: A Romantic Comedy

by Jennifer Griffith

  She’s nice. I can see why the city of Denver calls her their sweetheart. I have a friend in Denver. She should date him. That was a first. Some guy who wasn’t interested in Zoe? When had that ever happened in Ava’s life? She could make a fist and count that number in no time. But how sweet of Kellen to think of a good match for Zoe. Ava’s heart got a little squishy toward him reading that one. Unless the friend was a jerk. She put the brakes on the squishiness.

  Reporters. Why do they even care what I do? I’d like to move to an island. Say, have you ever been to Tuvalu? No. Ava had never been anywhere in the South Pacific. She’d hardly left the state of Arizona. But she wouldn’t go to Tuvalu. She’d go to the Louvre. The Prado. The Rijksmuseum. The British Museum. She’d go on an art binge. And she’d eat all the gelato European food carts had to offer. (Except the chocolate flavor.) And she’d listen to string quartets performing in castle ballrooms, and ride trains, and rent a bicycle in a quaint Swiss village.

  But it would only be fun if she had someone really fun to share all that with.

  And she didn’t have whoever that was. Probably not Zoe on a “best friends go to the Continent” outing. Not now.

  What was she going to put in her apology text to Zoe, anyway?

  No, I bet you haven’t. Your skin is too porcelain. Creamy yet brilliant. Do you like opals or blue topaz more? What was that all about?

  Ava, Ava, Ava. Text me back. You’re teasing me. No consciously, she wasn’t. But she didn’t know how to answer him, anyway. These texts all seemed like what he accused her of: teasing. Just shallow flirtation. His words didn’t amount to anything, and she suspected neither did he. She should let him float away like a dandelion seed on the wind.

  The last text, which came just a few minutes ago, though, jarred her.

  I’m showing up at your house at 7:00. Be ready for a thrill ride.

  Her head had started to pound. One thing, at least if she went on Kellen’s promised thrill ride, she wouldn’t have to make small sports talk with Enzio Valente, king of the spelling errors. It was a good thing for that guy his job entailed wrangling numbers and not letters.

  Ava started a text of her own.

  Zoe. I’m so sorry. This is all a huge misunderstanding. Can we talk?

  In just a couple of seconds, Ava’s phone chimed. Yes! Oh, can you ever forgive me? I hadn’t eaten lunch, and you know how I get when my sugar crashes. Can we do dinner?

  Chapter 13

  Dinner plans. For the first time in all of Ava’s born days she had three different sets of dinner plans. The Landmark with Enzio and his family. The thrill ride with Kellen. The hash-it-out and become-friends-again pizza fest with Zoe. Ava knew which one she’d prefer by far.

  She met Zoe in the lobby.

  “Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?” Ava needed to soften the blow. “Because I’ll be totally offended if you don’t stay at my place.”

  “Is this your way of saying you can’t do dinner?” Zoe’s shoulders fell. “I guess I can see that. Kellen McMullen probably has his name in permanent marker on every night of your calendar. I don’t get how the first guy you date is like that. I hardly ever meet a guy as amazing as Kellen, and if I do he’s always got someone with prior claim on him. Like a wife.”

  Ava remembered a few incidents like that.

  “If it makes you feel better, he texted me and said you’re really cool.” She didn’t know about mentioning the set-up Kellen offered. It might be salt in the wounds. And now that she couldn’t go to dinner…

  “He did?” Zoe brightened a fraction. “Oh, but I did find something out in the press corps down here. Thanks, by the way, for ordering the portable air conditioning unit and the plug-in air fresheners. Made a huge difference.”

  “No problem. What did you find out?”

  “I shouldn’t tell you, since you’re an insider, and I don’t have a hundred percent sure knowledge that you’re not in on the theft.”

  “Please.”

  “Right.” Zoe agreed. “But the guy from the Phoenix outlet for Fox News show says he has it on good authority that it’s an inside job.”

  Ava took this in. It made sense. The only way someone could have had access that night, since there was no sign of break-in and no trace of evidence (that she knew of—Agent Ford might have some), was someone with full access taking it.

  “Do they have a suspicion?”

  Zoe shook her head. “I didn’t hear. But I’d go with the handsome Italian as the culprit.”

  “Watch it. I have to eat dinner with the handsome Italian tonight. Let’s not make him a criminal just yet.”

  “What? Not with Kellen? You disappoint me.” She launched into a chorus of “Your Cheating Heart” that echoed in the rafters above until Ava shushed her. But she was laughing when she did. “Fine. It’s that whole hard-to-get thing. It’s working for sure. But Kellen said he had big plans for you tonight. You sure you’re willing to skip out on those for this Italian? I mean, I did see he was wearing a gold chain bracelet. I thought we agreed in junior high that was a no-no.”

  “It is. But I don’t have a choice. He had a sob story.”

  “Oh.” Zoe nodded knowingly. “I’m a sucker for those too.”

  They parted amicably, and Zoe claimed she was going to weasel a dinner out of one of the cuter single reporters from the stink room—the guy who brought churros for everyone after lunch. “He’s the Fox News guy. And his churros got my sugar back in balance. I owe him the pleasure of my company for dinner, don’t you think, as recompense? See you later tonight.”

  * * *

  Ava sat wobbling her ankle from her crossed legs while she waited for Enzio. He was picking her up by the train station near her house. She wasn’t quite ready to show him where she lived yet. But she’d been home and changed from the red dress and shoes. The Landmark seemed more of a powder blue sundress type place. She’d painted her toenails waitress red, and they peeked out from the tip of the wooden-soled sandals she wore. Really, she shouldn’t have put this much effort into her appearance. Creating an interest in Enzio wasn’t in her master plan.

  If only she were going with Agent Ford instead. He might like this dress. She’d have put on a few silver filigree necklaces for sparkle if she were spending the evening across a candlelit table from Riccardo—to create an interest. She’d have also paid top dollar to get in and see her hairstylist between work and the date, too. Zoe had mentioned the roots. They’d been showing. It wasn’t like having a slip showing. Roots were more like a hint of a Appalachian accent when you were trying to pass yourself off as a serious candidate for a slot at Harvard Business School. She’d better get that taken care of.

  Speaking of Riccardo. She hadn’t heard from him since this morning. Not that she should expect to. He had work to do. Lots of it. An enormously expensive painting to find. And possibly other cases he was working on as well. His work ethic—that was something that appealed to her strongly. A guy who could work hard and make his way in life, she craved having someone like that beside her.

  Hmm. It made her wonder. Did Kellen McMullen make his own way in life? He’d inherited his fortune, right? Probably. Otherwise she’d have to admit she was the teensiest bit interested in him.

  Up swished Enzio in his foreign coupe. He shot out and came around to get her door, fast as lightning, and off they sped.

  “So.” She gave him her dreamy voice. “Who all will I be meeting at the Landmark? Have I mentioned that I love the Landmark?” She batted her eyes up at him, but he was staring at the road. “Valente. That’s Italian, right? Is your whole family Italian?”

  “No. I mean, yes, it’s Italian, but no, we won’t be going to the Landmark.”

  Wait. She might have misheard him. No Landmark? Something felt off, suddenly.

  His car could’ve broken the sound barrier. She’d never traveled this fast on the freeway. Her hand involuntarily gripped the armrest on her door tighter when they came up on a curve. She couldn’t spe
ak to him out loud or it might come out a squeak. He was silent too, his eyes trained on the road, an intensity in his hands as he gripped the wheel.

  At least he was taking the task seriously if he was going to drive at this rate.

  They soared onto the 101 North and headed into Scottsdale. Oh, good. Lots of nice places to eat in Scottsdale. But instead of heading south when they took the Fort McDowell exit, they headed north, onto the Fort McDowell Indian Reservation. To the casino.

  “Ooh. Buffets. I do love a buffet.” She mustered some enthusiasm. Sometimes casinos did have a few good offerings. Mostly it was fried or weird, though, like the time she ended up with a plate full of crawdads. Baby lobsters, they called them, but Ava knew they could be caught in any irrigation ditch in Arizona.

  Her phone chimed a text. She pried her fingers off the handle and looked at it.

  Miss Young. I’d like to speak with you in person tonight about the missing painting, if possible. Agent F.

  A giddy buzz went up through her throat. He wanted to be with her tonight. Oh, how she’d love to comply. Maybe later, after this sumptuous dinner and sparkling conversation ended. She could be home by 8:30, right? Never in her life had she been asked out by three different men for the same night. Never. She quickly texted him back.

  At Ft McD for dinner hour. Maybe later on? A.

  She liked the “texting with initials” thing they’d started. It felt like their “thing.” They could have a thing, right? Something they’d reminisce about in their old age when their great-grandchildren were making paper airplanes in their living room at their feet. Or whatever.

  Enzio hadn’t talked in the last fifteen minutes, and it was starting to make her nervous. Maybe he was nervous around her. Maybe he was trying to make her nervous. It was working. Zoe’s revelation from the coat room about the inside job suddenly had Ava on pins and needles. She should say something to break the ice.

  “So, what do you like about living in Arizona? And what brought you to the Phoenix Metropolitan?” Again with the art questions. Maybe this time he’d be more forthcoming. Or he’d be even more clammed up, so she’d know something was off. She had to go easy or it would sound like interrogation. Assuming he was just a bit of a clod and not a criminal, she didn’t mind getting to know Enzio. He deserved a second chance. Maybe nerves made him talk a blue streak about sports earlier. She’d done stupid things around handsome men in the past. A lot of the time she forgot that she was pretty now, and that maybe she had an effect on people.

  “The people. I’ve met some very useful people in Arizona.”

  Useful? Strange choice of vocabulary. He didn’t pull into the casino parking lot like she expected but sped past it. No buffet, after all. A picnic in the desert, perhaps. That would be romantic. Tonight promised a full moon. They could sit on a blanket among the mesquites and prickly pears and watch it rise over the stark peaks. He headed off the pavement onto a dirt road, making five or six seemingly random turns past the end of the cotton fields and to where only desert remained.

  She decided now was the time to ask a few more pointed questions, as her oblique ones were getting her nowhere.

  “Enzio, you haven’t been up front with me. What exactly are you doing at the museum? They say you’re not exactly the best fit in the accounting department. Do you even have a degree in that field? And you don’t like or know anything about art. Come on. What’s going on? You can trust me.” She said this with her best feminine lilt.

  He said nothing. The air started feeling thick. Ava started to worry.

  “We’re deep in the heart of the Res now, Enzio. What’s your plan?” She tried to ask this with a flirtatious tone, but some nerves seeped out. Laws were different on the Reservation. After all, they were a sovereign nation. Her teeth chattered, despite the hot night. “Are we meeting someone? Some friends of mine used to come out here to do some shooting when they were in college. Nowadays you have to have a permit.”

  “I wasn’t planning on doing any shooting.” Enzio cranked the wheel and careened to a stop in a cloud of dust. Bad move. Now he’d have to wash this sports car tomorrow.

  A memory of a movie where the cad of a guy took his love interest to an overlook and then said “Wipe the lipstick off and let’s get started” rippled through her. The dream of making out with Enzio in a parked car hadn’t seemed like a possibility a month ago. Now it didn’t seem like an appealing prospect.

  Nor did Enzio have a lusty look in his eye. Instead, anger smoldered.

  “What’s going on?” Ava had been too trusting. That fact blared in her mind like a klaxon. “I gave up other plans for you. You said your mother… Your mother doesn’t live in Arizona, does she?”

  He shook his head back and forth slowly. Menace darkened that glowing face of his. The moon peeked up over the purple mountain to the east. The branches of the mesquite trees became spider webs to snag her—spider webs with thorns. Her throat constricted, leaving only a narrow straw for breath.

  “Ava Young.” Enzio cracked his knuckles. When he did, the gold chain slid out from under his sleeve. “I don’t like to do harm, especially not to beautiful women.” He cracked the knuckles of his other hand. “But let’s make one thing very clear. You’ve never seen Umberto Iglesias. You don’t know him. He’s never been in the museum. He’s never been seen anywhere in this valley, as far as you know.”

  Ava gulped and nodded. “It’s absolutely true. I don’t know whoever that is, and no, I’ve never seen him at the museum.” Her skin fizzed, alternating between hot and cold, like she had a high fever in fast forward. Her words came out airy.

  “Good.” He reached across her and opened her door, then he motioned for her to get out. As he did, she caught the gleam of a metal butt of a gun in his jacket pocket, and it made her shimmy out quick as a jackrabbit chased by a coyote.

  Don’t come after me with that gun, Enzio. Don’t. He must have seen the pleading in her eyes.

  “I said there weren’t plans to do any shooting tonight, and I meant it. But I want you to remember what I said, so I need to make a point.”

  She lifted a hand to her face, and wrapped her other arm around her waist. Danger to her body and soul had never loomed so fiercely. Why had she been so trusting? Flattery! Why had she let it dupe her?

  “Aw, don’t fear. I’m not going to bite you that hard.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe you do know anything about any Umberto Iglesias, contrary to what my boss might’ve said, so I’m just going to give you a little lesson. Hand me your phone.”

  Ava hesitated.

  “Give it. There’s no reception out here anyway. It’s the Res.” He grabbed it from her hand. “Now, listen up. You’ll tell no FBI agents about this little ‘date’ of ours, or I won’t be so nice next time.” He leered at her. “Too bad you wore those unfortunate shoes. They’ll be murder walking home. But your legs will look—” He said something in Italian she didn’t understand, and he tore away from her in a cloud of dust. She watched his taillights disappear, leaving her in the hot night with only the moon and the coyotes.

  The desert trees suddenly seemed full of eyes. And owls. And howling dogs.

  Chapter 14

  “Hi, Kellen.” Ava answered her phone. Her legs ached, but not nearly as much as her toes. These wood-soled shoes had absolutely no cushion to the step, and her arches might completely fall from this one idiotic hike. Still, hearing Kellen’s buoyant voice brought more than a little rest to her pain. “Can you hear me now?” He’d called a couple of times, and the calls had dropped. Such bad cell reception, and only a few miles from one of the largest metro areas in the nation. Ridiculous.

  “Sure. It’s much better now. Thanks for making a few tries.” Strangely a mild twinge of guilt at deceiving Enzio with the decoy phone pinged in her. He’d been kind enough to neither shoot nor defile her. Stockholm Syndrome, probably. But years of going to college and at University of Arizona and living in South Tucson taught her to always carry a fa
ke phone for when a girl gets mugged. She bought them regularly at thrift stores and kept a stash of two or three on hand all the time. He’d probably figure it out soon, so she’d better hustle home. Somehow. If she had any idea where he’d left her. Enzio’s little sports car had made so many random turns on this forsaken dirt road.

  “Ava! What’s going on? Where are you? I came by at seven and no one answered your door. Some crazy old lady handed me a bag of trash, which she said I had to take out since you weren’t home. Are you working extra jobs now? Aren’t they paying you enough at the museum? Because your money worries could be over in, like, a millisecond, girl. I could arrange all that.”

  She’d texted Kellen and said she had other plans, but he obviously refused to believe her about that and had shown up anyway. Bless him. A pothole in the dirt road snagged her foot, and Ava stumbled, twisting her ankle.

  “Ava! Are you all right?” Kellen must have heard her cursing under her breath. “Come on. I haven’t seen you all day. You’ve got to let me come and get you. Did you burn your finger on the fry machine?”

  Huh? The question was so odd she forgot about the shooting pains in her ankle and shin.

  “Just tell me where you’re at so I can come and get you. This full-time job at night at McDonald’s. It’s no place for you. Not with your education. And your class. You’re far too refined for that. You’re selling yourself short.”

  What on earth could make him think she was at McDonalds?

  “Look, Kellen, I was wondering. Could you get a hold of Agent Ford? He will have access to tracking GPS on a person’s cell phone. I don’t actually know where I am right now. Somewhere in the desert north of Scottsdale. I think.”

  “Ford.” Kellen spat the name. “He’s the one who called me, asking where you were.”